


Too Hard to Ask

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Post-Sirius in Azkaban, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2006-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some questions are hard to ask</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Hard to Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

It wasn't usual for Remus Lupin to have peaceful nights. So often, his dreams were plagued by blood, tears, and so much regret. Regret and, since he had learned of Sirius Black's innocence, hurt. Long ago, could it really only have been a year?, Remus had told Sirius that he forgave him everything. Forgave him for suspecting that Remus would ever betray him. Of course, what else would he do? Remus was a true friend; he knew how much Sirius needed **someone** to believe in him, someone to be the same, when everyone else was dead or worse. And, at the time, Remus thought it was only fair. He, after all, had accepted it when the news broke and Sirius was sent to that hellhole. He accepted it as it broke his heart and drove him out of England for three years. So why not forgive Sirius for believing it of him, twelve years ago when all was distrust and fear? Because it was different. Remus had actions to look at, to mourn, when he was confronted with the possibility that one of his friends, no, his **best** friend, had betrayed two others and killed 13 innocents. Sirius only had an assumption, a prejudice, and that had led to two wonderful people being slaughtered. And more than that. Of everything in his entire life, the one thing that drove Remus Lupin on from the age of eleven was the knowledge that, no matter what, he had Sirius Black to believe in him. Even after they were reduced to ex-lovers, having ended "amicably" after Sirius had tried to use him as a weapon of destruction against Snape, Remus could not stop loving him, just telling himself that it had to be a different kind of love, no matter how often he thought about how good those seven months had been, tangled up in scarlet sheets and in Sirius. But now, even with Sirius free from Azkaban and the truth out in the open, that moment of doubt in Sirius's mind caused Remus more pain than any transformation could. And all the more when he opened his door that summer to find Sirius's eyes staring at him, like the last 14 years hadn't happened. 

"Moony!" Sirius greeted, obviously worn and breathless from the walk from the borders of the anti-apparation wards and from whatever else he had been suffering through since returning to England. He had been running nonstop before and since leaving Hogwarts after the Third Task. Sirius would normally have been ecstatic to see his friend, to even be under a solid roof, if it weren't for the lingering image of an echo Lily speaking to Harry, of a wisp of James speaking at all. 

"Are you mad?" Remus barked, pulling Sirius into his house, or cottage rather, as it was all a werewolf could afford, and trying to ignore the sharp ache pulsing through his heart when his hand met flesh that seemed to be clinging on for dear life. 

"Walking around in that state? What if someone saw you?" Sirius laughed, amused at how so little changed, at how so much changed with it. Remus had always been a bit worrisome. 

"I only transformed at your doorstep, Remus. Are you a werewolf or a mother hen?"

"Well, it's nice to see you too, now what's happened?" asked Remus, choosing to ignore the jibe.

"I'd just as soon wait until the others get here, cut down on the explanation," Sirius answered, accepting the glass of pumpkin juice that Remus had offered.

"What others?"

"The old crew, Dumbledore's reinstating the Order of the Phoenix, Remus. Oh, I suppose I'll tell you first, then you can explain it to the rest when they come in the morning. Who knows if they're still wary of me? Well, the short of it is that Voldemort has returned, he tried to kill Harry and failed because of this strange connection with their wands, one boy died but Harry made it back safe with the aid of the echoes of James and Lily, but Fudge is being...grrr...and he won't believe Harry OR Dumbledore because he let those damned Dementors give the kiss to young Barty Crouch and to top it all off it sounds like Fudge is going to try to get Dumbledore out of Hogwarts." And Sirius finished with a grand exhale, then inhaled his juice. "So, all in all, just another excuse for you to throw a party at my house?" asked Remus, though both men knew that he was taking this news seriously.

"Sounds about right," Sirius smiled, having missed his old friend. They had exchanged a few words since his escape in Harry's third year, and seen each other briefly in India when Remus had been contacted to help with a dangerous werebear. These fleeting stolen moments had only made Sirius long for the old days even more, never imagining that his friend did not share the same opinion. Remus, no matter how ashamed he was for feeling it and no matter how much he berated himself for even thinking it, had at times wished that he had never met Sirius Black. At least then none of this would matter to him. He would never have met James Potter or Peter Pettigrew, never would have inspired their plan to come Animagus, and, maybe, he would never had lasted to graduation. Yes, Remus thought about these failed realities often, and when he realized that, without his friends, he would have died before he turned seventeen, he sometimes resented them even more.

"Well, you look exhausted. The spare room is right down that hall, kitchen on the left, and the bathroom is at the end. Goodnight, Sirius." Before he could be called back, Remus retreated to his room and wished, for once, that there was a full moon outside his window. He felt like he could use some physical pain at that moment, anything to take his mind off the man a few doors down. He wasn't sure why this was so painful. In India, all he had felt was worry for an old friend, none of this regret and resentment and something else underneath. Maybe that's what it was, hatred. Remus so rarely hated anyone, and the thought that he might feel this way about **Sirius Black** was making him ill. 'It wasn't his fault! He was just trying to protect James, just like he would have protected me.' But somehow, Remus couldn't believe that. The equality of Sirius's loyalties when it came to him and James. If the situation had been reversed, and Remus was the one in hiding, Sirius would never have suspected James Potter. Wouldn't have doubted him for a second. 'Maybe that's all this is. Sirius is my best friend, but James is his and that's the way it is. Was.' After trying to sleep, then trying to read, then trying to think, Remus gave up and changed into some Muggle clothing, simple khakis and a blue button-down shirt, and resolved himself to walk down to the closest pub and drink until he'd exhausted his Muggle currency. It didn't occur to him that Sirius was still awake, sitting in the living room, leafing through the latest edition of "Transfiguration Today".

"What are you wearing?" Sirius laughed, eyebrows arched and a smile that almost reached his eyes. It was the same smile that he had worn ever since they had broken up, or so Remus liked to tell himself. And Remus so nearly wished that he had had that smile around for the past few years, but then remembered why he was intent upon swimming to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey.

"I'm going out for a while," he answered curtly, forgetting that he didn't want Sirius to ask him what was wrong because that would mean they'd finally have to sit down and ask the questions they had been avoiding all year. But Sirius didn't ask, merely bade him a good night. Remus kicked a few stones on his path into town, watching the lights from the inn expanding in the sky and bleed color into the stained-glass window of the church. 'Once upon a time, a stained- glass window held the colors of my heart. And little school boys stoned it to death and left me broken in London.' The thought swam through his mind uninvited, almost making him laugh at the sentiment. Normally he didn't think of things like this until after he was drunk. And besides, he hadn't stated in London long enough to break. That had come later, somewhere in China actually. Breaking his head against the Great Wall, until they came along and sent him back home. The Old Dungeon Ghyll was a quiet pub, the only kind Remus would ever enter. The view of the waterfall didn't hurt either, but Remus was mainly looking for a place where they didn't ask questions, didn't even look at you, and the smell of smoke wasn't too strong for his lupine senses. So Remus was surprised when, halfway through a bottle of the cheapest, strongest whiskey this part of Muggle Britain offered, the distance between his lips and the glass was interrupted by a hand over the rim and a questioned muted into mere tones by the toxin in Lupin's blood.

"What?" he asked, still too mesmerized by the golden color of his drink and its similarities to the eyes of a man he had once known to look up. Still thinking, 'ooh, pretty hand. I should keep lifting my glass.'

"I asked you what you think you're doing?" Sirius asked, sitting in the chair opposite Remus's. He didn't look too angry, maybe just curious. 'Or disappointed. Who is he to be disappointed with me?'

"I'm just having a drink," Remus growled, angered by the gall this man had to have expectations, or concerns, or anything at all. "What do you think you're doing?" "Looking after a friend," Sirius answered sternly, his infamous anger beginning to show. Remus was hoping for it. Hoping for an all out brawl, or even just one punch as long as they didn't have to bleeding talk about it. Talking only led to things that Remus didn't want to hear, admit, or feel.

"So am I," Remus answered, wondering if it was a lie or not. "You should be home. I know we're in the middle of nowhere, but you shouldn't risk being seen." It was amazing, the level of sobriety in his voice.

"What's wrong?"

'Damn.'

"Remus? Are you going to tell me why you're trying to drink yourself into a stupor or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"

"What makes you think I'm doing that? This could be my first drink for all you know." Remus did sound quite clear-headed. He nearly always did.

"I've been watching you drain that glass for the past half- hour," Sirius smirked, perhaps proud that he had remained unnoticed, a tough feat when in the company of a werewolf who knew his scent.

"Why?"

"To see if I could."

"Well bully for you. Now the real reason."

"I want to know what's wrong?"

"The rise of Voldemort, the death of a student and the possibility that only the Order will know of the war not enough of a reason for you?" Remus asked, frightfully grateful for all those excuses.

"That's enough for any man, but not you," Sirius answered.

"Why? Because I'm not a man?" Remus knew what Sirius had meant, but he wanted this to be hard for him, just for a little while.

"You know that's not what I meant. Just that we've faced these things before and, in the past, your first reaction was never getting pissed. At least alone."

"Well, as you said, that was the past. I'm sure you know from experience that the past fourteen years could change any man, even me."

"Not this much, Moony. Not this much. What say we go back to your house?" Sirius suggested, standing up and offering Remus his pretty hand. Remus ignored it and left the bar on his own, Sirius following behind. They didn't speak the entire walk back, something for which Remus was not grateful. Now that he knew what was to come, he'd much rather get it over with and go to sleep. Especially with all they had to do come morning. Instead, it was a good twenty minutes after they settled into their seats in the living room that Sirius broke the silence.

"What is it that you're afraid to ask?" Remus was shocked. He had thought it would be so obvious, the need to know why. "What do you think?" he asked, honestly curious to know the answer. As if it held something greater than the wide world. 'Please don't think I want you back. Please don't let me want you back.'

"I don't really know. Maybe what it was like, in there? Or what I was thinking when I went after Peter? I wonder myself sometimes. But I can see by your face that I'm wrong. So why don't you just ask me?"

"Why?"

"Because I know that something's-"

"No, why? That's my question. Why did you think that it was me?" 'There. It's finally out. At least I didn't ask you to...but God, please don't answer!'

"Because there was strong proof that it was one of us, and who would think that Peter would have the strength to come face to face with Voldemort." Remus scoffed. This was no answer, this was an excuse. 

"Padfoot, I thought we were being honest." The use of that nickname, it always brought things to a different level. It made James alive, and Peter a friend, and Voldemort something so inconceivable, and anything other than brash youth an impossibility. It nearly made Sirius cry.

"Moony, I'm so sorry," Sirius croaked, his voice straining over the lump in his throat. "We just hadn't seen as much of you after graduation. We didn't have those full moons anymore, and I... didn't have you anymore. Only a few letters and visits every once in a while. We didn't think you'd ever hurt us, but you could have changed."

"We?" Remus asked, knowing this was what it all came to. It wasn't about the regret over losing Sirius as a lover. It wasn't about guilt that, maybe if they had stayed together, this wouldn't have happened. And it wasn't about hurt pride, but the level of doubt amongst friends. "Does `we' include Dumbledore? Lily? James? You all thought I had defected?" 'Am defected.'

"No! No, James would never think that of you!" Sirius yelled, the certainty in his voice smacking of denial. 'He needs James to be perfect.'

"So it was just you?" Remus asked, even though he knew it couldn't have been.

"Does it really matter?" Sirius asked, even though he knew it did.

"Yes! You know it matters! How many people? How many of my friends thought me capable of such a thing? It does matter!" 'But it doesn't. It won't change anything, certainly not for the better.' Sighing in his resolve to tell Remus the truth, Sirius gave in. "Dumbledore knew it was someone close. He never accused you, or anyone else for that matter. Lily told James that it might have been me, because of...Snape, but he wouldn't hear of it. He suggested Peter but the whole idea that one of us could have sided with the Dark Lord so tore him apart that he didn't want to think about it anymore and left the decision with me."

"And you thought of me? I don't blame you. Werewolves are untrustworthy beasts aren't they? Filthy, dark, dangerous things. Of course you'd think of me," Remus whispered, hoping that if he were on the other side of the coin, he wouldn't have thought such things at all.

"Remus, I know you are none of those things!"

"But you didn't! You didn't know! Not then!" Remus shouted.

"What about you?" Sirius snarled, finally growing weary of this pity fest. "When they sent me to Azkaban, did you think those things of me? We're both guilty of bad judgement here, Remus." 'Same thing he said when we ended it, but I could never hear that.'

"But there were bodies, Sirius! There was something to look at. You didn't have that luxury when you made your judgement on my character. God knows what you based that on. And, at first, I didn't believe those things they said about you. The man I knew would never hurt Lily and James. But I thought that the man I knew, my best friend, would have thought more of me and would have told me when the change was made."

"I'm just saying that we both made mistakes," Sirius answered, the meekness in his voice showing that he knew his had been the greater mistake. But that didn't stop Remus from pointing it out.

"At least my mistake didn't get anyone killed." That did it. Before Remus could even blink, he found himself with what felt like a broken jaw and what he knew to be a bloody nose. He didn't even try to fight back, it felt so good. 'Just like the old days, only I had never been in the fight, merely watching Sirius and James go at it over a prank gone wrong, or over some girl, before Lily and before Sirius had talked himself into believing he was in love with me. Sirius and James. Always those two. It's a miracle I found a place at all within that love.' Thinking of this, Remus didn't even notice that the fight was over until Sirius handed him a towel to stop the blood. 'I really should apologize. I'm sure he's felt that guilt enough for two lifetimes without me forcing it on him again.' "I shouldn't have said that," Remus mumbled, deciding that he wasn't ready to apologize to Sirius for anything yet.

"Don't bother, we both know it's true," was Sirius's answer. He had barely broken a sweat in the brief altercation, but he was still straining to catch his breath, maybe out of shock that he was capable of hurting his friend. But then, he'd already hurt him once before. He just hadn't realized how much. "Remus, I know that I've taken something from you, apart from Lily and James and twelve years of me and a million other could-have-been's. And for that I am truly sorry. I don't know what else I can say."

"You don't have to say anything," Remus answered, knowing that he was finally being honest with his friend. "I thought I needed you to answer me something, but I suppose it doesn't matter what you say. Things are what they are, we are what we are, and that's how it is. No use breaking our hearts, or jaws, over trivial information anyway, is there?"

"There is. You need to know. And, whatever it is, I need to tell you. And then we can go to bed and put it all in the past, where it belongs," Sirius answered, again taking his seat across from Remus. "Now ask!"

"But now I'm not sure I do want to know!" Remus laughed nervously, and not just over his statement, but over Sirius's as well. `We can go to bed'. It almost sounded like domestic bliss. 'Pity one of us is just the family pet.' Besides, he doubted that it was an invitation of any sort. He had watched Sirius shrug off the split by remembering he wasn't **really** gay, and Remus himself had shrugged it off by reminding himself that he'd never expected anything but loneliness. So those seven months with Sirius had been...time off for good behavior.

"Remus, just ask me. You'd be surprised at how little you can surprise me."

"Fine. If things had been different, and Voldemort was coming after me instead, and we knew that someone close by was working for him, would you have...could you have ever imagined that James was the one?" 'What a stupid question! What does it prove? I might has well have asked why he liked James better! Honestly, how old am I again?'

"Now, I was not expecting that," Sirius smiled, and this time it definitely did not reach his eyes. "Yes."

"You can't be serious!" Remus shouted, amused that he was just as insistent on protecting James's memory as Sirius had been earlier.

"Of course I'm Sirius," Sirius joked, deciding that no, it never got too old.

"Padfoot-" Remus began, impatient with that old Marauder grin.

"Moony, I am serious. In hindsight, of course I don't doubt James's loyalties, just like I don't doubt yours. But back then, anything could have been possible. And I'll save you from wondering. If things had been different, and you had been killed and James had been the traitor, I would have hunted him down and killed him without hesitation. And I mean that. Now I insist we go to bed before things get blubbery in here." Of course it was too late for that, but when Remus finally did fall asleep, alone in his own bed, mere hours before dawn, it was the most peaceful night he had ever had.


	2. 2

Sirius was already awake, skimming over the Daily Prophet, when Remus awoke the next morning.

"I saw that," Remus mumbled, voice torn to a whisper from all of the shouting and drinking and dirty dreaming he had done the night before. But God, did it feel good.

"What?" Sirius asked, hoping that his friend hadn't noticed how far he had jumped when he had broken the silence.

"You tucked a pair of reading glasses into your robes," Remus smiled, pouring himself some of the warmed-over tea and sitting at the bay window, glaring at the garden that was in need of a serious de-gnoming. Sirius just laughed, pulling out the glasses once again and continuing with the paper.

"You've missed an owl from Dumbledore. He said that the others would be here this afternoon," Sirius said in between quoting to Remus the more amusing personals in the paper. "Listen to this: `Glamour spells and witchy makeovers available. Owl Mathilda McGirk for appointments.Discretion assured.' No why on earth would you need discretion to go get your face made up?" Sirius asked, handing Remus a plate of sausage and eggs that he'd been supervising in the kitchen.

"Well," Remus answered, after closely scrutinizing the plate and making sure that there was no trace of the Belch Powder Sirius often used to spice up his culinary creations, "Mathilda McGirk, if I'm not mistaken, is a hag. And I don't think a woman would make much of an impression if word got out that she had to go to Madame McGirk for beauty tips."

Things continued along these lines, as if neither man could bare to bring back the tension of last night, until Remus thought of how very little he had learned in his haste to get the one answer.

"Sirius, who died? At the tournament?"

"I think it was Diggory," Sirius answered, folding up the paper and tossing it onto the coffee table.

"Yes, Cedric would have made for an excellent Hogwarts Champion," Remus sighed, remembering the bright young man that, to many, had been the pride of Hufflepuff.

"I keep forgetting that you were a professor," mused Sirius. "What was that like?"

Again, Remus sighed. "I loved it, Sirius. Apart from having a job and a decent place to stay...it was Hogwarts. You know how it is, being there. Like everything is safe and calm. Of course, it's tainted now. Couldn't walk down the hall without remembering everything. Everyone." Remus paused, thinking back to how his heart had leapt into his throat every time he caught a glimpse of Harry out of the corner of his eye. The hope that, just once, it would be James standing there. But then, having Harry there was nearly just as good. Nearly. "And I really loved teaching. I think it was the first time that I felt like I was worth anything."

"Harry swears that you were the best teacher he ever had," Sirius smiled, deciding not to list the many _somethings_ that Remus Lupin was worth. Then his face darkened, remembering why his friend no longer had that life. 

"What about the grease ball? What was he like?"

"Who, Severus?" Remus asked, pretending like there could have been some other "grease ball" at the school.

"Don't call him that," Sirius answered. "His name is Snape and it is to either be spit out, sneered or growled."

"Well, I've always called him Severus, even back when we were students," Remus reminded. But he doubted Sirius had forgotten. His habit of trying to keep a peaceful, professional relationship with Severus was probably the very thing that lit fire to the torch of Sirius's jealousy, all those years ago. _Again, my fault_.

"And I always told you not to call him that, but I see you haven't learned."

"Well, to answer your original question, I was very grateful to have him there."

Sirius nearly choked on his Earl Grey. "What? Are you daft? He's the slime that got you sacked!"

"He didn't get me 'sacked'. I resigned. And I'm not daft. The man made me Wolfsbane before every full moon, and you know that that potion takes a lot of talent and time."

"He only did it because Dumbledore made him," Sirius muttered. "And you wouldn't have had to resign if Snape hadn't told."

"And I wouldn't have had to resign if I wasn't a werewolf, but some things we can't change," Remus answered, yelling at the voice in his head that was screaming `But some things can!' to grow up.

"The man tried to sic the Dementors on me, you know," Sirius growled.

"And for that I'll dislike him for your sake. But he's not the only man that's ever rushed to conclusions, so give him some slack, won't you? You'll be seeing a lot more of him now than ever, I'm afraid. And you must admit that his is a task ten times more dangerous than ours."

"If you love him so much, why don't you marry him?" Sirius frowned, a sign that the argument was won and not by him.

"Now that's mature," Remus smiled, rising to clear the dishes and deciding against concocting a fictitious love affair with Severus for the purpose of torturing Sirius. "There was something else I was going to ask you, but now I've forgotten," he continued after washing the dishes by hand, oddly too lazy to fetch his wand from his room.

"And here I thought that you remember _everything_ ," Sirius muttered. "Was it something I mentioned last night?" he ventured, hoping that it wasn't because, really, none of the matters broached the night before were fit for a lovely morning just made for Quidditch or flying motorbikes or walking down to the lake. Then again, Sirius couldn't think of any day fit for talking about some of those things.

"It might have been. But I imagine it couldn't have been that important seeing as it's totally slipped my mind. Is there anything you'd like to do before the others get here?"

"You mean you're going to let me leave the house?" Sirius answered in mock surprise. "With Dementors roaming the country and my face plastered across Wanted posters from here to Timbuktu?"

"I hardly think that you're one of the top priorities for the peoples of Timbuktu, Sirius. But it's nice to see that your ego hasn't suffered one bit over the years," Remus smiled, earning a rather hard, if endearing, slap on the back of the head from his companion. "Ow. Thank you, appreciate it," Remus answered, as he ran his hand through his hair.

"You've gone rather gray, haven't you?" Sirius noticed, brows furrowed at something, maybe lost youth, maybe forced age, maybe the simple passing of time.

"Very tactful," Remus pouted, pulling a wounded face but honestly not caring either way. It wasn't as if he had someone to keep up appearances for. He barely looked himself in the mirror. "It's the stress from having a friend like you." _Or from not **having** you_ , he added mentally.

"Well," Sirius continued, not wanting to dwell on how accurate Remus's audible statement was, "I'd like to head down to the lake. I haven't had a decent swim in ages, apart from trudging through puddles in that monsoon we had here last month."

"Here? How long have you actually been in England?" Remus asked, having assumed that Sirius had spent most of his year abroad.

"Since October," Sirius answered. "Harry's scar was hurting," he explained.

"Why didn't you come see me?" Remus asked, a little upset that he hadn't even known his best friend had been in the country for nine months, and that he couldn't even be bothered to write. _But remember, you didn't exactly want to hear from him._

"For one thing, I actually didn't know where you were staying, you move around so bloody much. But apart from that, I don't know if I'd have taken the risk of straying too far from Hogwarts, with everything that was going on. And you know, I spent one night in jail," Sirius added, hoping to draw attention away from the fact that he had simply been too uncomfortable to visit Moony and act like it was old times again.

"What?!" Remus bellowed.

"Muggle police caught me after I broke into a house to Firecall Harry," Sirius shrugged, knowing that if he acted as if it was no big deal that Remus would see it as an even bigger deal, which always made for an entertaining lecture.

"And they didn't recognize you?" Remus asked.

"No, didn't even drag me into court since I didn't take anything. Or maybe that female officer just wanted to use her handcuffs on me in a more private setting," he smirked, and then wondered why he said something like that when he was trying to...

"Well, how nice for you," Remus answered, not sounding sarcastic enough or hurt enough to fit Sirius's expectations.

"Is that it?" he asked. "No yelling and screaming? No threats to have me fixed if I don't behave myself? And I thought you cared!" he joked.

"And I thought you cared for the people in your life enough to keep yourself out of prison!" Remus snapped.

"Oh, come off it Moony. I had to warn Harry about Karkaroff, didn't I?"

"Was it so urgent that you couldn't owl him?"

"Well, it's kind of hard to get a hold of a messenger owl when you're a fugitive, you know," Sirius answered bitterly.

"You just wanted to see him," Remus answered.

"And why is that a crime?" Sirius demanded, his patience long worn.

Remus stared at his friend for a moment, wondering how far he would go himself to protect a loved one. Why was it so hard to imagine? Harry was James's son. Why didn't Remus have this reckless, selfless abandon when it came to the boy? Maybe it was the title. Remus was not his godfather. Still, he hated that he couldn't understand. But maybe he could. He'd been prepared to kill Peter for Sirius. He'd been prepared to die for him too. _But it's not the same kind of_

love, is it?

"It's not," he answered. "I just wish you wouldn't risk so much for him, is all. I don't want to see you hurt."

"Why not?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know," Remus answered, sitting down and looking older than he ought to.

"Yes you do. I'm all you have left."

Remus hated that it was true. He hated it even more that Sirius had the nerve to point it out. "And is Harry all you have left? Is that why you put your freedom on the line?" What was this? Was this jealousy? Was Remus jealous of a fourteen-year-old boy that had lost his parents, been forced to live with three awful people, and faced death on a yearly basis since becoming a Hogwarts student?

"Moony, I do have you, you know. And that's no little thing," Sirius smiled. "But since when am I the cautious one? You know perfectly well that it was I who scoffed at the threat of a year in Azkaban just so we could become Animagous. And I damn near killed Severus Snape dozens of times. And that flying motorbike couldn't have been legal, and I'm an escaped convict and-"

"What was Azkaban like?" Remus asked, suddenly reminded of the matter that had been on his mind earlier that morning. Sirius halted mid-rant, Remus cursing himself for bringing that dullness back to his friend's eyes, if only for a moment. "If you'd rather not-"

"No," Sirius interrupted. "No, it's fine. Someone was bound to ask."

"I can't believe I'm the first," Remus said, knowing the curious

nature of Harry and his friends, not to mention Albus Dumbledore.

"I can. It's not an easy question to ask. Can't casually slip it in with an inquiry about the weather. And then, it's not an easy question answer. Especially for me, with my ever inflated ego that you so missed. Never did like admitting defeat. Injury. Emotions. But in Azkaban, that's all you ever feel. I'm sure you know what it's like to be near a Dementor. And even the great Remus J. Lupin couldn't have mastered the Patronus charm the first try. Maybe the second, but not the first. So you've had to have felt the hopelessness. The regret and pain and the memory of every bad thing you've ever felt and thought and done. But they never backed away, Remus. They were at my door, day and night, breathing in every good thing I had and leaving me with...with the guilt. Me **not** crying at my mother's funeral. Me sending Snape to the Whomping Willow. Me breaking a few hearts, getting my heart broken. Me letting you leave. Me suspecting you. Me trusting Peter. And then Halloween, going to his house, not finding him. Seeing Godric's Hollow, the smoke, the Dark Mark. My first thought not about James and Lily, but about what spell he used. Why did he blow up the house? He would have used Avada Kedavra. And then...the bodies. And Harry. Knowing what I'd sentenced him to, with my mistake. And what I'd sentenced you to. Then I went after Peter, but when the Dementors were leaving me these memories, things became twisted. Peter, in my dreams, became innocent, and I was just killing another friend. And I saw myself blowing the street apart, the blood, hearing the screams and laughing. Always laughing. And when the Dementors left me, it was even worse. I could smell the fear, Remus. And the death. Looking out the barred window above the door, I saw so many people go mad. Screaming, throwing themselves against the walls, falling silent, and then you knew they were gone. It was only a matter of days. They'd stop talking, stop eating, and they'd die. If they were lucky. The Dementors had their favorites. Maybe some people's happiness tastes better than others. So they kept them alive, only visiting their doors once a month. And they healed them, if they tried to take their lives into their own hands."

"Did you...?" Remus began, not being able to ask, fearing the answer.

"Yes," Sirius whispered. Remus had told him some of the horror stories of his earlier transformations, and the consequences of them, so he felt he owed his friend the truth. 

"They aren't very solid, the walls of that place. They don't really need to be when the captive can barely stand. But sometimes I'd transform, when it got to be too much. And once I was scratching at the wall, wondering if, if I wanted it enough, I could break through. I never did, but once I clawed out a piece of stone. I can't even remember grinding it down to make a sharp edge. I can't even remember cutting myself, but I do remember...I can see myself waking up, seeing the shadow of a Dementor at the door, and looking down, seeing my legs torn, my stomach, seeing my hands covered in blood and hearing James screaming, thinking it was his blood. A ministry mediwizard must have come then, fixed me up. That's not the only time it happened, but that's the cleanest one and I'd rather not discuss the rest."

"Of course," Remus answered, still pale and shaking from Sirius's words. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. I probably needed to tell someone."

"No, I'm sorry," Remus repeated, knowing that one word couldn't fix that night for him, or anything else for that matter, but hoping that it did _something._

Sirius was silent for a while, locked in Azkaban once again, until Remus noticed the smile spreading on Padfoot's face. 

"What are you thinking?" Remus asked.

"I was just wondering why you didn't disagree with me saying that I'm all you have left."

"Maybe because it's true?" Remus answered.

"But why is it true? Why is there no Mr. Mr. Lupin?"

"Mumblegrumble."

"Pardon? I missed that."

"Maybe it's because I've gone gray," Remus frowned, not liking the direction this conversation was going, even though it was marginally better than talk of suicide and personal demons. Marginally.

"Moony," Sirius nagged.

"What?" Remus sighed.

"What happened to that man killer we all knew and loved?"

"Appropriate words when speaking to a werewolf."

"Ahh, you'd never hurt a fly."

"Maybe that's because werewolves are the only known beasts that actually prefer human prey." Remus wasn't about to tell Sirius that the reason there was no "Mr. Mr. Lupin" was because he had simply stopped looking for him. For some reason, Remus knew that Sirius would find that fact more deserving of a laugh than any inability to successfully hit on a man. _Of course, I'd never tell him why I_

stopped looking, and I don't think he'd ever assume that he was the reason.

"Fine," Sirius muttered, marveling at how quickly he gave these things up these days. "Did you have any plans for today, before I came and ruined your party?"

"You haven't ruined anything, Padfoot. You know perfectly well that any room with you in it is infinitely brighter," Remus answered, sarcasm threatening to drown them both.

"Well, yes, everyone knows that," Sirius answered, flashing his million-galleon smile.

"You looked just like Gilderoy Lockhart just then," Remus smiled, not entirely sure if Sirius would understand the reference but chancing it all the same.

"Take it back!"

He got it. "No. And to answer your question, I did have plans. I still do, actually, so you'll be on your own for a few hours. But I'll be home before the others arrive, I'd expect. You said this afternoon?"

"Yes, but where are you going?" Sirius asked, a little disappointed that they had to cut the reunion short. And more than a little apprehensive of being the only one at the cottage when the others arrived, given Remus's tendency to be late for _everything_.

"I'm not going to be late," Remus answered as if reading Sirius's mind.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"What?"

"Know what I'm thinking."

"Would you rather take away the many years we've had together in which I learned how your mind works?"

"Shaddup."

"Well, there you go."

"No, you're the one going and I believe I asked you where that might be before you went all telepathic on me." Sirius had missed these verbal skirmishes. By the shine of Remus's eye, it seemed he had too. But then that light faded as Lupin answered the question.

"The Werewolf Registry office in the Beast Division."

"Why? You're already registered."

"There've been a few deaths in the Midlands and Lake districts. Some Ministry officials have been pushing for new policies and there's going to be a protest today at the Registry office, which you'd know if you read anything other than the comics and personals."

"Well what are these policies? Must be bad if you're actually going to protest."

"Me? Protest? No, I'm just going as a favor to Amos Diggory, to try to keep things peaceful. And besides, Dumbledore probably wants me to ask around, find out if Voldemort has approached any of the dark creatures yet. Then I'll go over to the Werewolf Support Services office to find out about these new laws up for consideration. Can't trust what the paper has been reporting."

"Remus, what has the paper been reporting? And don't tell me to read it myself! I want the abridged version."

"It's a miracle you passed the O.W.L.'s."

"Moony!"

"Fine, I'll explain and then I'll go, since it's nearly eleven. Some people, like Walden Macnair and his committee-"

"Death eater scum."

"Yes, that one. He wants every werewolf to have a blood sample on file to aid Muggle authorities. He wants the right to destroy any werewolf on sight during the full moon, instead of just stunning them. He wants the right to destroy or imprison any werewolf who has ever committed an act of violence, even while in human form. And he wants us tagged."

"Tagged?"

"Yes, with locator charms. And he wants the location of werewolves to be listed in some public forum, so you can know if there's one in your neighborhood."

"It's like the Dark Ages!" Sirius shouted, voice torn between disbelief and blind fury.

"Yes, well, at least they don't have permission to skin us or hang us. Yet," Remus smiled.

"How can you sit there and smile like that? Don't you understand what these policies would mean for you?"

"I understand a lot more than that. In your haste to worry over me, you may have forgotten that if this law is passed, the Ministry will alienate all werewolves, precisely at the time when we need them on our side. We do not need more enemies at this point. Which is why I'm going to the Support Services office at the Being Division. The people there are generally more level headed, since they deal with creatures that have the capacity to argue their case. And I'll find out what the proposal is exactly, who its supporters are, and what odds it has of becoming Ministry law. Until then, there's nothing I can do."

"Moony, if they try to put a dog tag on you, so help me God I'll bite someone's head off!" Sirius growled.

"I'll keep that in mind," Remus smiled. "I'll be sure to come back by four. If anyone comes and you feel uncomfortable about it, just make your excuses and leave them here. I don't mind being an ungracious host. Or you can just leave them a note and go to the lake like you wanted."

"How about I come with you?" Sirius offered. It wasn't that he was terribly worried about entertaining a few old friends. Dumbledore said that he had informed them of his innocence, and all of these people trusted Albus Dumbledore's judgement, as much as they trusted their own. Still, there would be looks, suspicion, doubt. There might be apologies, false boasts that they always knew he was innocent, of course. And there would be memories. Sirius was so tired of memories.Every fiber of his being was just screaming for rest. For one moment away from lucid.

"I don't think your presence would go over well with the Ministry," Remus chuckled, tossing dish rags aside in his attempt to locate his wand and copy of the amended 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct.

"So you're going as a favor to Amos Diggory? I'm surprised he isn't taking time off work."

"He might be, for all I know. The last time I spoke to him was on Wednesday. I still can't believe Cedric's gone. Did that letter from Dumbledore mention if he announced the cause to the students?"

"Yes, he's made an announcement. I'm a bit surprised that it wasn't in today's paper, actually. It won't be kept quiet for long, even if Fudge wants it to be. But what sort of man is Diggory? Do you think he'll help Arthur Weasley get some Ministry support for this?"

"Amos is a very good man. I can't really fault him, for all of my dealings with him. He was one of the few that sent me a personal letter, asking me to reconsider my resignation. And he's always been very open minded when it comes to werewolves, giants and the like. I think we can count him as being on our side, especially now. That's why I hope he does all that's in his power to stop Macnair and his crew. And he'd also be wise to speak to Fudge about the Dementors."

"What about the Dementors?" Sirius asked, eyes dulling into a deep-sea blue.

"Well, I'm sure I'm not the first to point out that, should Voldemort return, the Dementors would hand over the Death Eaters in a matter of weeks. Fudge won't go for it though, from all I've heard. He's in love with those creatures. I sometimes wonder what he hears, when he walks beside them. Anyways, I'm off. Behave yourself or I'll have you fixed," Remus smiled, patting Sirius on the head as if he was in Animagus form and then heading out the door, trying to retain the feeling of Sirius's hair in his hands.

"You know I always do!" Sirius called after him, as he turned towards the kitchen in search of ingredients for some sort of Itching powder that he could spread over Remus's bed sheets.


	3. 3

Sirius was splayed out in the garden, soaking in the English sun, by the time Remus returned home.

"How'd it go?" he asked, the shadow his friend was casting keeping the sun out of his eyes. Remus muttered something unintelligible in response as he tried to peer through the front windows, but failed to see anyone other than himself.

"Hasn't anyone turned up? It's nearly five." He thanked god for small miracles, finding himself capable of speech when faced with the sight of a shirtless Sirius Black. _I wonder if he remembers when I named his..._

"As if you could lecture on punctuality," Sirius snorted, wrestling his discarded shirt away from a restless garden gnome. "You said you'd be back by four."

"And I might have made it if I hadn't been stunned for the past hour and a half," Remus answered, tossing a few gnomes in the process and trying for the life of him to keep his blood below boiling point. "So where is everyone?"

"Inside, waiting, but what do you mean you were stunned?" Sirius demanded, hurling a gnome a bit harder than he normally would and noticing the sweat glistening on Remus's forehead, as if the man had run home.

"I'll explain later. How long have they been here?"

"A couple of hours, and you'll explain now or you'll find yourself stunned again."

"Hours? What on earth did they say to you to drive you out of the house?"

"Why? Concerned?" Sirius grinned.

"No, simply looking for pointers," Remus retorted, not missing a beat.

"Actually, they were surprisingly civil, given the... awkwardness of the situation. But since half of them are put out from taking a portkey across the Channel and the other half seemed insistent upon making conversation that would only have to be repeated for your benefit, I decided that I could use a nice lie out. Regain my color."

"Padfoot, there is nothing at all wrong with your 'color'. Perhaps you've forgotten that you spent the better half of a year in the tropics?" How Remus kept himself from whimpering when Sirius had pulled his shirt back on, he'd never know.

"Yes, but you weren't here to see me go white as a sheet when Arabella turned up, wand in hand, threatening to curse me `til Doomsday."

"Surely she was just having you on?" Remus asked, knowing that hexing wasn't exactly Arabella's forte but concerned none the less.

"No, she was most definitely buggered, though mainly because I was so reckless as to go after Peter myself, that day."

"Well, she has you there."

"Shaddup and get in the house. And tell me who stunned you!" Sirius repeated as he pushed Remus through the front door. Unfortunately, the dramatic entrance wasn't missed by those inside and soon Lupin found himself surrounded by concern, which was somewhere he didn't want to be.

"I'm perfectly fine!" Remus bellowed over the tittering voices tweaked with a lust for revenge. Of course, the sudden outburst got everyone's attention, as it wasn't often that Remus raised his voice above the volume of the humble and meek, at least in the company of people other than Sirius. It didn't matter at all that he was neither of those things, not really, but his overwhelming desire to go unnoticed often gave that impression. Once the collective breath-holding reached the point where they would soon be gasping for air, Remus took a seat on the sofa, exhaled with all of his might, and apologized. "I'm sorry for shouting, but I really am fine. I just ran into a bit of trouble at the Werewolf Registry Office."

"They're not actually considering passing that piece of shite, are they?" This was Mundungus Fletcher, a wrinkled prune of a man, looking ludicrous in Remus Lupin's parlor, wearing a flowery, not to mention blinding, Hawaiian shirt. The unusual attire did not go unnoticed.

"What on earth are you wearing?" Remus laughed, noticing for the first time the paper umbrella sticking out behind his ear.

"Well, before this mutt turned up in my fireplace, I had been summering on the coast," Fletcher answered, jerking a thumb in Sirius's direction.

"Are they considering the new sanctions, Remus?" repeated Arabella Figg.

"I never got far enough to find that out, but by the looks of things, it's all but official. If not, some of the Ministry zookeepers would be facing some consequences for what they did today, not being patted on the back for a job well done."

"What on earth happened?" Sirius asked sharply. "Was there a riot at the protest?"

"As far as I'm concerned, there wasn't. When I arrived, there were about two dozen werewolves sitting on the steps of the Ministry. They weren't even chanting. Really, even a handful of werewolves just sitting there is intimidating enough for most, and they had an intelligent leader, Rowan Brandon. He explained to them that we should try proving our humanity by being as unobtrusive as possible. But then Macnair and his gang turned up, started provoking them with names and insults and even throwing juvenile hexes. All it took was one push from our side before they could declare war in the name of self-defense. Thank god no one was killed, but seventeen are going to be spending some time in St. Mungo's, and probably Azkaban too."

"Were you hit in the commotion?" asked Fletcher.

"No, and that's why I'm so bloody frustrated!" Remus answered, unable to control is temper any longer. "The moment fighting broke out, I apparated to the Being division and got as many of the officials I could to come back with me and try to restore the peace. Five of us got back to the front steps and started disarming people and physically pulling them apart, but then I made the mistake of disarming Macnair himself, just before he turned his wand on a girl that couldn't have been nine years old. He just threw himself on me, wrestled back his wand and knocked me out cold." Remus rose to get a drink as he concluded his story, hoping Sirius wouldn't notice that some things had been left out. If he had, he didn't mention it. The details on the table were more than enough to enrage him.

"I'm gonna kill that fucking bastard!" Sirius screamed.

"Yes, and what a help that would be, Sirius. To have my best friend back in Azkaban, or worse, Kissed. Yes, good plan. Best get cracking," Remus muttered, pushing his friend back onto the sofa with ease.

"Enough of this, let's get to work," interrupted Gilbert Wimple, who had been watching the scene with growing impatience. It wasn't that Gil was unsympathetic to the werewolf cause. And it wasn't that he wasn't angry about the Ministry response (his horns seemed to be flushed with anger, if that was possible). But he had dropped all of his Charm work in order to meet at Lupin's and at that moment he wanted to talk about something more immediate and much more important than werewolf rights and a few bigoted officials.

"Yes," Remus agreed, quieting Sirius with a well-placed glare. "I assume you all know the generals of the situation?"

"We know the bloody specifics as well, seeing as there are so few of them," Liam Cunningham answered. Years ago, Liam had been the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts. He had left the post to take care of his daughter when Voldemort killed his wife in the mid-Seventies. He helped with the war all he could, but he never returned to Hogwarts, leaving the position open to a series of temporaries.

"We'll know more once our operative gets some information and Hagrid returns from the Giant camps," Remus answered. It was important to Severus Snape's safety that a minimum amount of people knew of his role in the fight against Voldemort. Remus and Sirius withstanding, only Dumbledore and a few of Hogwarts' senior staff were aware that the Potions master had returned to his role as spy. With Hagrid, however, it was obvious that he was the only man for the job, so secrecy was not that important.

"What do you want us to do?" asked Sirius. He was aware that the instructions from Dumbledore were to lie low and wait until he turned up. Dumbledore had Fudge to deal with at the moment but he had said that he'd come by morning. Still, Remus had some amount of authority in his absence. It wasn't anything that he had done, per se. Merely who he was.

"We're going to wait here until Albus comes. But I can tell you what I think will be coming. Arabella will return home and remain there all summer. The Headmaster will probably tell Harry about you, so you'll be able to have a more active hand in his safety. He'll need it now, more than ever. I'm sure he understands that he can't be running off this summer, but you know that he'll want to, with that family of his and God knows what going on in his mind. Sirius, no matter what you're asked to do, make sure you get over to Harry's a few times a month. I'll try as well, if I can. We'll find a way to make sure he's ok. Liam, I'm sure you're going to be approached about the teaching position."

"I'm not going back," Liam interrupted. "I'll do anything he wants, but I'm not going back there."

"Liam, you can't be by her side forever. She's a grown witch," Arabella entered. She was, of course, referring to Jolie Cunningham, Liam's daughter. She was the reason that Liam had refused to return to Hogwarts. That and the thought that, had he been home instead of off at some boarding school, his wife might be alive.

"I know that. And, whether I like it or not, she's going to be fighting along side us in this thing. So I'd rather take on a bit more than teaching. I don't think I have the heart for it anymore."

"It's possible that Dumbledore has no intention of asking, Liam," Remus answered. "But the post is vacant and it is an important job, preparing these kids and protecting them. I was just guessing that you'd be a likely candidate, experience and all. We all know that I'm not going to get the job. Moving on, Gil, you'll probably be set to work on convincing your Ministry friends that he has returned. I know Arthur is on it as we speak, but one more friend couldn't hurt. Other than that, I don't see what you could do other than continue your Charm research. As we all remember, there's nothing we can do but prepare ourselves to play the defensive, at least at this stage. We'll never be able to go up against Voldemort if we don't have more numbers. Sirius, you're at too great a risk to do anything just yet. We could use some research about the potion Voldemort used to return, what the origins are. We need to know if he can be killed, and we need to know how he can be contained. There must be a weakness somewhere, something that he overlooked. And Fletcher, you're going to have to meet with Arthur Weasley and the older sons and start thinking up ways to secure Azkaban." There was an almighty groan from Fletcher's corner of the room.

"Well, you're going to have to face him some time, you old goat!" Arabella answered.

"What's this about?" Sirius asked, clearly confused.

"A few years back, he tried to hex Arthur Weasley during a raid," Remus answered, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. "I owled him my apologies!" Fletcher added, cheeks flushed. "That old warlock he works with had just confiscated my favorite toy!"

"Which was?" Remus asked, already knowing the answer and unable to hide his grin for it.

"Charmed Muggle binoculars that could see through clothing," Fletcher answered, not a hint of embarrassment or shame. In fact, he sounded rather proud of his ingenuity. Everyone else in the room burst out laughing, all relieved at the opportunity to do so.

"Well, I'm sure that Arthur Weasley bears no grudges," Sirius said once the merriment subsided. "He's a good man. Hell, the whole family is great. So you just swallow your pride and get on with it."

"It's not just that. I'm not keen on doing anything concerning the Dementors," Fletcher answered.

"No one ever is, except Fudge. He has a bloody love for those things," Liam added.

"I had to spend the night in Azkaban," Fletcher continued. "For that incident. A night for trying to attack a Ministry official, even though I never harmed him and he told them so. Tried to get me off with a warning, so I know Arthur Weasley's a good man. Still, I got stuck with this cocky magistrate that seemed to think a night with the Dementors would teach me respect for the Ministry. You can't imagine what it was like." The moment that last statement came out of his mouth, all eyes turned towards Sirius. Sirius, however, was gracious enough not to point out the obvious, but even his unwillingness to keep Mundungus from feeling guilty about the slip wasn't enough to keep him in his seat. It was hard enough to stomach hearing the simple word "Azkaban". Being reminded of the Dementors always left Sirius with feeling drowned.

"Sirius?" Remus asked, eyes full of concern as he watched his friend make his way over to hall.

"I'm just going to wash my hands," Sirius answered, flashing them a small smile before heading towards the bathroom, locking the door behind him and sinking to the floor. Once Sirius was out of sight, Fletcher began to apologize. "I can't believe I said that! I can't believe I'm such a Bundimun!"

"I can," Gilbert muttered under his breath. Remus couldn't help but agree, but he'd never say it aloud. Making this situation seem as tense as it really was would only lead to Sirius being either avoided or coddled, and both things would only hurt the man more. So he did the only thing he could do. Lied.

"He'll be fine," Remus said. All fretting ceased, since Remus Lupin was seen as an authority on Sirius Black. In truth, Remus knew that Sirius would not be fine. He knew that he had to get back to the bathroom and see him. But he also knew that if the others doubted Sirius's stability, the potential he had for helping the Order would be undermined and Dumbledore would lose one of his best weapons against Voldemort. "It's getting late. Why don't you all head down to the Muggle pub down the road? I'm sure we can all use a bite to eat."

"What about Sirius?" Arabella asked, shooting a worried look down the hallway.

"I'll wait for him and we'll catch up." Once everyone had gone (some after transfiguring their robes into less conspicuous garb), Remus headed back to the bathroom, unlocking the door to find Sirius retching into the toilet. All he could do was wince as he kneeled down to pat the man's back, hold his breath as he held his hair, praying for it to stop before he lost his own breakfast. Once Sirius had regained some composure, he grabbed Remus's arm with his shaky hand and pulled himself up. "I'm sorry," he said, unable to look into his friend's eye.

"What on earth for?" Remus whispered, handing him a wet washcloth and fighting the urge to just embrace the man and tell him that everything would be fine, even if it wasn't true.

"I don't know, I just am," Sirius answered. "I hate having you worrying over me."

"Do I need to worry over you?" Remus asked, half gasping as he met Sirius' eyes, those beautiful azure pools that held the best of dark and bright and so much more. _Maybe the best of me._

"Probably," Sirius answered, admitting to himself for the first time that things were getting worse for him. The first few months out of Azkaban were characterized by denial that he was free, fear that he would be caught, some suspicion that he was really in his cell, having a very vivid, very painful dream, even if seeing Harry on Magnolia Crescent had made it real. By the end of Harry's third year, Sirius had begun feeling hope and happiness again. He had left England, found a paradise, put some weight back on. But for the past few months, his nightmares had gotten worse and worse, and during the day even, his memories of twelve years in hell were hard to ignore. He was beginning to fear that the Dementors would never lose hold of him. Not in any way that counted.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Remus asked.

"Tell me the truth about what happened at the Ministry," Sirius answered.

"Will worrying about me too make you feel better?" Remus smiled, leading them both back into the living room.

"As awful as it sounds, yes," Sirius answered. He didn't need to explain it to Remus. Helping a friend was infinitely better than self- pity.

"Can it wait until later tonight? The others have gone down to the pub and we're to meet them for dinner."

"Fine, but don't think I'm going to forget about this," Sirius warned.

"Oh, I know I'm not that lucky," Remus laughed, and the two men began the walk to the pub.

"Thank god you're here!" greeted Arabella. "I've completely forgotten my Muggle currency."

"And you've lived in Harry's neighborhood how long?" Liam asked. "I still do all my shopping in Diagon Alley, thank you very much, and I don't see you with pound notes, or whatever they call them, and you live in Oxford!" Liam handed Remus a few galleons in response. "For all of us," Liam said, garnering cheers from the others. After Remus disclosed that he did have enough Muggle money on him to cover the bill, they resumed eating, Fletcher apologizing to Sirius several times before being told to shut up. The group rushed through their meals, not wanting to miss Dumbledore's arrival. They needn't have hurried, however. An owl was waiting for Remus when they returned, the letter from the Headmaster explaining that he would meet them in the morning.

"There's an Inn in town, but you're all more than welcome to stay here for the night," Remus said. "I've got an extra room and a decent tent that has two beds, not to mention the sofa." In the end, Arabella stayed in the guestroom, Gilbert and Fletcher set up camp in the backyard, Liam settled for the couch and Sirius moved into Lupin's room.

"I'll take the floor," Sirius said, reaching for an extra pillow and blanket that would seem luxurious to his dog form.

"Don't be ridiculous," Remus laughed nervously, snatching the pillow and putting it back on the king-sized bed. It was one of the few splurges of comfort that Remus had, but it was worth every knut. "There's more than enough room." _Especially if we stack up verti...no, won't think like that_ , Remus chided himself, wondering what was going on with him. Not once after they had broken up had Remus had such an overwhelming desire to shag Sirius senseless. Except at James' and Lily's wedding, and only then because it was a wedding, and because his date for the evening had cancelled on him last minute. And even now he doubted he'd be physically up to the task, no matter how much he wanted to wrap himself around his old friend and never let go.

"I'd rather not crowd you," Sirius answered.

"What you mean is `I'd rather not get anywhere near that Itching Powder'," Remus returned, smiling at the scowl on Sirius's face.

"Damn," the other man muttered, taking out his wand and clearing off the bed linens.

"Are you feeling any better?" Remus asked, once they had both settled down, a healthy distance from each other that is.

"Yes, now that I have food in me," Sirius answered, determined to stare straight above at the ceiling.

"How long has that been going on?" Remus asked, hoping to delay his own inevitable disclosure of certain embarrassing truths.

"Maybe a month. Some days are better than others."

"What is it, Sirius?" Remus didn't understand why Sirius was worse off now than he had been last summer. It wasn't as if Sirius had any real guilt weighing him down. Phantoms of it, yes, but he hadn't _done_ anything. He hadn't killed James and Lily. _Only me._

"I don't even know, Remus," Sirius answered, hating the way his voice stumbled over the words. "I couldn't even tell you what goes through my mind. But sometimes, I'm just back there. And I can't get out, in my mind I can't get out. And that makes me so angry, so nervous, that I just have to fall down or I'm afraid I'd do something very bad. Unforgivable even."

"You'll get through this," Remus said. "I'll get you through this." _Stop lying to him, damn it!_ "Don't be afraid to fall, Sirius. Even if people are depending on you, don't be afraid to depend on them. We wouldn't hold being human against you. Just don't hurt anyone."

"I wouldn't-"

"Don't hurt **yourself** ," Remus continued, ignoring Sirius's interruption. "Now, enough about you. Weren't we going to talk about my problem?" The tone of Remus's voice couldn't help but make both of them laugh.

"Oh, it's always about you, isn't it?" Sirius asked, swiftly wiping at his eyes, merely an itch, nothing more.

"Naturally," Remus answered.

"So what happened with you?"

"Oh, I was only joking," Remus grumbled, pushing his back against the headboard and preparing himself to cast a full body bind on his friend if things got out of hand.

"Spill it, Lupin," Sirius said, also sitting up.

"I will, but I'm warning you that I have a wand and I'm not afraid to use it," Remus warned, and he continued once Sirius rolled his eyes and nodded. "Well, everything I said earlier was true, except Walden Macnair did a little more than knocking me out." Remus could hear the forced steady breathing that meant his friend (bedmate) was more than a little upset.

"First, are you okay? Second, what did he do? Third, did he get away with it? And fourth, since I already know he did, how the hell did he get away with it?!" Sirius asked, voice rising to a shout by the end.

"Keep your voice down," Remus hissed. It was bad enough that the others knew about being stunned. Remus was an honest man, but he did have his pride, and a handful of his respected peers knowing that the Ministry had treated him like a dog did not help it at all. "And he got away with it because I didn't report it."

"Why the bloody not? And what is 'it'?"

"Because it wouldn't do any good. There was no way I could prove it, and any accusation would just circle around a few Ministry offices and then fade away, keeping out of the papers if I were lucky. And if I couldn't prove that Macnair was responsible, the blame would shift to one of the werewolves, and that's the last thing any of them need. We'll get him, Sirius, but not like this."

"Remus, what did he do?" Sirius demanded, his voice threatening that, no matter what it was, Macnair had better relocate.

"This!" Remus yelled, frustrated that he found Sirius so hard to control. _I might need my wand after all_ , he thought, as he pulled up his shirt and exposed the gaping wound, enflamed at the edges where the infection was just beginning to take hold.

"What-"

"He stabbed me. I didn't even see it coming. All my fault, really, let him catch me off guard. He stabbed me with a silver dagger, in the scuffle over his wand," Remus answered. _Yes, keep sounding as if you're talking about a stubbed toe. That's sure to convince him that-_

"Why didn't you go to the hospital?" Sirius asked, moving over to see the wound, summoning some gauze from the bathroom.

"I had other thing on my mind!" Remus snapped, feeling like he was six again, and he didn't want to feel that age because that's when-

"Like what?!" Sirius demanded incredulously, interrupting Remus' train of thought again.

"Like you. You and me!" _Oh fuck. That was definitely the blood loss talking. Shite._ Thankfully, Sirius chose to ignore it. "You didn't even clean it up! Why didn't you show me this when you got home? You could have bled to death!"

"Sirius, I'm not bleeding at all. I was sensible enough to stop that," Remus answered, shooing Sirius's hand away as the man tried to tape a sterile pad over his abdomen. It was odd for him, feeling more embarrassed by his growing arousal than by being treated like an invalid. Normally things went the other way around for Remus. _Not like it bloody matters now. Bloody...ha._

"Maybe Arabella knows some first aide charms. I'll go-"

"No!" Remus shouted. "No," he repeated, softening his voice once seeing the look on Sirius's face. "I didn't go to the hospital because there's nothing anyone can do. No one's ever bothered making a cure to save werewolves from silver. They think that silver is the last defense against us, and if it were used, we deserved whatever happened. So not even Arabella could fix this." Sirius was staring at the wound, only two inches long but who knows how deep. Remus had said it was a dagger, that it had been quick. No time for Macnair to stab twice. He must have plunged it in and dragged it down.

"I'll kill him, Remus. He's dead already," Sirius whispered, eyes hardened in determination.

"Maybe you will, someday, but you can't right now," Remus answered, his own eyes promising to kill Sirius if he even tried to do something so foolish.

"Remus! You-" Seeing that no argument could dissuade his friend, and knowing that he was in no mood to even make an argument, Remus did what he thought would catch his friend's attention. He showed his pain, wincing as he coughed into his hands. What he didn't expect was to find blood there when he drew his mouth away. "Shit." It wasn't eloquent, but it was his own proportional response.

"We have to get you to a doctor," Sirius said, rushing to put his shirt back on and find his boots. _No, don't cover up! Might as well go out with a pretty view._

"I'll be fine," Remus protested.

"You're fucking coughing blood Remus!"

"Yes, but I'm not going to die from it. I'll have a fever for a few days maybe, but I'll be fine. And I already told you that a doctor wouldn't be able to help." _I thought I was an honest man. But I could be right. I've lived through worse. Every day since he was put away has been worse than this. This doesn't even hurt. I don't even feel anything._

"Somebody has to know enough about medicine to heal you!"

"No, there's nothing."

"A charm?"

"No."

"A potion." "No."

"A potion! There must be some combination that someone hasn't tried! Even the Wolfsbane Potion hasn't been around forever, so someone must have come up with it. Now someone can come up with this," Sirius argued, his voice so pleading that Remus almost smiled at the privilege. Maybe it was nice to be fussed over, at least by Sirius. "Padfoot, it's the middle of the night. I'll concede and go to an apothecary in the morning, but for now, I'll survive. Just let me go to sleep." Remus hadn't noticed how very tired he was. When he was younger, he had carelessly bit into a silver sickle that was hidden in a Christmas pudding. The tooth he chipped had cut into his gums, just enough to let some of the silver slip into his blood stream. Had he felt this bad then? Probably not. He hadn't been stabbed, either.

"Snape. We'll go see Snape," Sirius said, sounding so happy to have thought of the Potions master that Remus really did smile. And laugh. And wince again as he did so.

"What's so funny?" Sirius asked.

"You. You just sounded so thrilled. Talking about Severus," Remus answered between laughs.

"Well, get your cloak on. We're going to see him."

"Be sensible, he might not even be at Hogwarts," Remus said.

"I'll bloody Fire Call him," Sirius snapped. "Just get your cloak on." With that, Sirius walked out of the door.

"Severus Snape!" Sirius shouted, leaning close to the fire. Sirius could hear something, but Snape hadn't shown his face. Perhaps he wasn't at Hogwarts after all. "Snape! Are you there? It's important!" Suddenly, Snape's face appeared in Remus's fireplace. 

"You!" he spat, seeing who had woken him. "This had better be a real emergency, Black." Sirius choked the urge to tell him where to shove his real emergency..."It's Remus, he's really sick. Can we come-"

"What makes you think I give a damn about some werewolf with a cold?" Snape sneered, forcing Sirius to call upon all of his patience to avoid reaching into the fire and strangling that smarmy bastard.

"Listen to me, you bastard!" _Couldn't help it._ "It's not a cold. He's been stabbed, the knife was silver and it's really bad. Please!"

"Get to Hogsmeade right now and I'll meet you with a carriage," Snape snapped before disappearing.

"That went well," Sirius muttered, heading back towards the bedroom to check on Remus's progress. Unfortunately, he wasn't there.

"Remus?" Sirius asked, knocking on the bathroom door. Hearing no answer, he walked in, cursing at himself when he found Remus unconscious on the floor.

"Mobilicorpus!" Sirius shouted, practically flying out the door in his hurry to pass the anti-apparation wards and get to Hogsmeade. It took less than a minute to get them there, but even a second seemed too long for Sirius. True to his word, Snape was waiting near the train station.

"Who did this to him?" Snape asked as he helped guide Remus into the carriage, which took off the moment Sirius sat down.

"Macnair, this afternoon at the Beast Division. He only just told me. I don't understand! How could he have been perfectly fine an hour ago?" Sirius rambled, not even caring that he wasn't being hostile to Snape.

"Silver is a slow acting poison for werewolves. If one dies from being shot by a silver bullet, it's usually the bullet that does the trick. But even if the wound isn't serious, the silver can usually finish the job. There's no known cure for it," Snape explained, lifting Remus's cloak to inspect the wound. It had now begun to rot. It was all Sirius could do to keep himself from being sick. The fact that the carriage was going faster than a Firebolt did little to ease his stomach.

"There must be something!" Sirius said frantically, once he felt it was safe to open his mouth. "Why did you agree to see him if you couldn't help?"

"I said there was no known cure. I didn't say that I couldn't help!," Snape answered. "Even if we can't reverse the damage the silver is doing, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey and I can do something about the wound and maybe control the infection. Before he passed out, were there any other symptoms?"

"He coughed up blood," Sirius answered, manoeuvring Remus onto the cot that Madam Pomfrey had waiting at the entrance. Dumbledore stood beside her, looking more murderous than Sirius even felt. Sirius wouldn't have thought it possible. Snape and Pomfrey began rushing Remus to the hospital wing and Sirius intended to follow, but was stopped short by Dumbledore. "Sirius, please come to my office. If anything can be done for him, they will help," Dumbledore said, his hand tugging at Sirius's elbow. Sirius was reluctant to leave Remus, but it was true that he was in far more capable hands.

"How did this happen?" Dumbledore asked. They were sitting in his office, the pictures of former headmasters asleep in their frames. Sirius related the entire story to Dumbledore, gripping the sides of his chair when he found the urge to fight too great. After a long silence, Sirius spoke his fear. "He's going to die, isn't he?" Dumbledore stared at Sirius for a long moment, perhaps searching out the constitution of the man. "No, I don't think so. Not tonight." Sirius wasn't sure that even Dumbledore could really know this, but it made him sigh with relief all the same. "What do you want us to do?" he asked, needing something in his mind other than the image of his best friend, coughing up blood. And then to block that nagging voice, the one that sounded so much like Remus, saying, "Best living friend, you mean." How could Sirius ever tell him that it wasn't true? How could it not be true?

"Arabella will need to return home, no later than tomorrow morning. Gilbert can go back to work as well, scouting for allies and keeping his ears open. Mundungus can help Arthur Weasley with the Azkaban situation. I'll speak to Liam about resuming his teaching career. And you-"

"Can research the potion Voldemort used to regain his body?" Sirius asked with a laugh. Dumbledore nodded, eyes piqued with curiosity. "Remus said the same exact thing earlier," he explained.

"He would know what to do," Dumbledore said, his voice showing his age.

"I don't think Liam will agree to it though," Sirius continued.

"He knows that his daughter will want to help and he's wary of letting her out of sight."

"But she wouldn't be out of sight," Dumbledore answered, eyes twinkling for a moment, shining even brighter against the darkness that surrounded them. "I've asked Jolie Cunningham to take over the Care of Magical Creatures course. Have you seen her journal article on Ramoras? Fascinating."

"What happened to Hagrid?" Sirius asked, hoping that his meeting with the Giants hadn't gone amiss.

"He'll still be groundskeeper here, but his work with Madam Maxime concerning the giants would keep him away from the class far too long. Miss Cunningham will do admirably, I suspect."

"And what about Remus?" Sirius asked, not able to qualify that statement with "if he lives."

"I don't think it was mere circumstance, what happened with Macnair today. Harry saw him in the graveyard and he knows it. Harry's survival has upped the stakes of this fight already. Voldemort will not waste time. He's going to come after the Order, and perhaps today is proof of that. When Remus recovers, he and Amos Diggory will begin recruiting as many magical creatures that they can. Last time around, Voldemort had many dark creatures on his side simply because we were too stubborn to ask. We cannot allow that to happen this time."

"What did Fudge have to say?" Sirius asked, sure that he would have to ask again later, when his mind was not in the hospital wing with Remus.

"Fudge is many things, but he is not a stupid man. He knows that parents would not stand for my removal from this school. He did try to convince me that Voldemort is gone and that Harry needs to be committed and that Severus needs to be sacked, but in the end, we agreed to disagree. Hopefully Arthur and his Ministry friends will help turn his heart, but until then, we do everything unofficially. And when the school term resumes, anyone in the Order of the Phoenix that is not already residing in London will either move to Hogsmeade or take rooms in the castle. Voldemort didn't dare attack Hogwarts last time around, but he won't be so timid now. And we'll find a way to keep everyone safe until this is over." Soon after, Sirius found himself heading down to the Hospital wing, running into Snape on the way.

"How is he?" he asked, unable to interpret the lightness in Snape's features. He wasn't sure how happy the man would be if Remus had died.

"He's better than could be expected. We'll know by dawn if there are any lasting effects, but he'll survive the night," Snape answered. Sirius mumbled a thank you and hurried past, ignoring Pomfrey's blustering as he sat down beside Remus's bed. Remus was sleeping, but it was the kind of sleep that he could wake up from, and that was enough to comfort Sirius. Once the mediwitch left them alone, Sirius stole a kiss from Remus, nearly crying to find that his lips tasted just the same as in his dreams for the past two years and hoping that, some day, he could tell his friend how frightened he truly was at the thought of having to **steal** kisses from him. He fell asleep in the chair, hoping that, some day, he could tell his friend how frightened he truly was at the thought of losing him.


	4. 4

Remus opened his eyes to a coruscating light and nearly laughed, thinking of that hackneyed Muggle concept of "near death" and wondering if it was worth the effort to move toward the white. But then a splash of color began to bleed into the center of things and a dull pain somewhere in his body gave proof of life. As his field of vision came into focus, as the sharp lines of Severus Snape battled the blurry morning senses, Remus did laugh, if only quietly and to himself.

"Well, that was unexpected," he mused aloud, having entertained the notion, just before he had passed out on the bathroom floor, that the next person he would see would either be Sirius Black, chiding him for not having put on his cloak, or James Potter, welcoming him home.

"I'd say," answered Snape, though they both knew they were referring to different things. "I didn't think you'd have the capacity for speech. It's a pity you're so resilient," Snape continued, allowing a brief strain at the borders of his mouth to indicate that he was being sarcastic on most levels.

"You should have let the silver run its course," Remus said. "Macnair might suspect I've had help."

"He'll _know_ you've had help, but he'll know better than to accuse _me_ of saving your life. Or perhaps he'll assume that you've built up a tolerance to silver, which we all know from the last war is possible, given enough time."

"How bad was it?" Remus asked, moving his hand towards the wound and finding a bandage there.

"It still is a matter of concern for those who care for and about your wellbeing," Snape answered. "Thank God it's the summer. The students would have been in a frenzy, having you in the infirmary for two weeks."

"Two weeks!" Remus exclaimed, before a brief coughing fit seized him.

"Calm yourself, I administered the Wolfsbane Potion while you were unconscious, though I am surprised that you didn't wake up for the transformation. I was under the impression that it was still rather painful, even with the Potion." Snape wasn't surprised at the ease with which he spoke to Lupin. It was a simple thing to do when he elevated it to a matter of intellectual curiosity. As long as the two were alone, it was easy for him to forget that he was speaking to a dark creature.

"It is," Remus confirmed. "Please don't tell me I owe you my life. I don't think I could withstand the guilt."

"I won't tell you that, but I am holding the fact over a very resentful dog of yours who is now torn between licking my fingers and biting my head off, so to speak," Snape smirked.

"Where is he?" Remus sighed, relieved that Sirius hadn't gone off and done something foolish and painful to Macnair, but apprehensive of speaking to him. Sirius would just berate him for being so selfless, Remus would have to defend himself by saying that it was just an acceptance of reality, then Sirius would scoff and point out the fact that Remus had dismissed the hurt his friends would have felt had he died. Sirius _wouldn't_ point out the fact that this oversight put him and Remus on the same level, but they'd both know that it did and Remus had so enjoyed having the upper hand in the situation. _And then there's that thing I said_ , he reminded himself, and then wondered if he could get away with pretending it never happened. A lethal toxin had been coursing through his veins, after all.

"In the library," Snape answered. He then left without a word, leaving Remus to wonder if the Potions Master would fetch Sirius for him. Probably, given the opportunity he had to taunt the man.

"I really detest that man!" _That answers that question._

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked, pulling up a chair to sit beside Remus's bed. Remus took in his friend's state, the nervous darting of his eyes towards Remus's wound, the haggard face, the panic line still visible but receding, the eyes shining with something he was scared to name.

"I'm fine. I'm actually surprised that I still have the wound. Normally my transformation heals all pre-existing scrapes. It usually causes enough new ones to make up for it though, so as not to spoil me."

"Poppy thinks the strain of the change aggravated it. Snape thinks that all of the different potions in your body that were used to keep you alive must have had some effect on the Wolfsbane Potion or the transformation itself. He's got Dumbledore all excited by the possibility that a non-lethal dose of silver before the full moon might be able to do something to...well, I don't know what the hell they were talking about, to be honest. I was preoccupied," Sirius concluded.

"I hope you were preoccupied with apologizing to the Fat Lady, since you are here and you owe her something for all the trouble you caused that year" Remus smiled, while carefully removing the bandage to inspect the wound. It looked now like a mere scratch, and Remus was relieved that he wouldn't have one more scar. They may give a man character, but too many and it's hard to explain them away. Not that he'd had to in recent years.

"She'll get over it," Sirius answered, allowing his breath to catch when Remus undid the buttons of his pajamas. "I was busy worrying over you, thinking about some things, doing homework for Dumbledore, and worrying over you some more."

"I'm touched that I'm listed twice in there," Remus grinned, easing himself into a more comfortable sitting position, wincing as the sheets grazed a superficial but painful scratch that came from God knows where. 

"What were the things you were thinking about?" Remus asked, shooing away the hand Sirius offered when he saw the struggle to become more vertical. _There's that word again. I'm doomed to be followed by that word, when I'd really rather be horiz...Damn, I need to stop this._

"I was wondering why you asked if I could have doubted James," Sirius answered. "But then I figured it out and I was wondering how I could have buggered things up so much that you'd think he ever meant more to me than you do."

With that, Remus was undone. He'd been operating under the idea that Sirius's preference wasn't something assumed. It was a bloody fact! It was one of the foundations of the Marauders Hierarchy. James Potter. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew. Always in that order, even before the disclosure of his condition, even after he and Sirius shared a bed. It was based on looks, talent, personality, strengths, weaknesses, failings, habits, curses, whatever it is that determines someone's worth. And apart from the abstract, it was a component of daily life, when it wasn't the four of them as one. James and Sirius together, Peter following them at a distance that allowed for visibility but precluded being seen as an annoyance, and Remus, alone. That's how it had always been, even after graduation.

It was something by which Remus judged himself, on those few occasions when he looked in the mirror. When Sirius had been guilty, it was "I'm third, one notch below a murderer." When it became Peter, it was "I'm third, just one step above a traitor and murderer." It was this fact that held his entire schema together. How could he have been wrong? And how could Sirius have left him if-

"Sirius, you don't have to say this. I _know_ you always favored James, but that didn't take away from the value I set on our own friendship, so you don't have to pretend," Remus said, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn't asking to hear a flattering lie.

"We went over this before, remember? When we were...together. I've already told you that I **understand**."

"But Remus, I didn't-"

"Sirius, I mean it," Remus interrupted with a hint of steel in his voice, just knowing that if Sirius went on, it would be worse than that fucking scratch Macnair had given him. It would be a silver dagger through his heart. 

"Don't. James always was the better best friend. It was _easy_ to love him. You didn't have to work at it. It wasn't as painful. Though looking back now, I suppose it turned out to be. But when he was here, it was-"

"Easier?"

"Less complicated."

"Simple even."

"Yes."

"Yes. I can see it now. So logical. But that was always your cup of tea, Moony. Of course, I see it now. James _would_ have been a lower maintenance best friend."

"Would have?"

"Don't make me say it, Moony," Sirius whispered, even though he knew he had to. Even though he wanted to. He just wanted Remus to know how hard this was.

"What?" Remus asked, still confused as to what, exactly, Sirius was failing to say.

"I love you like a brother."

"But I knew that."

"And I love you _more_." There. It hurt like hell, but he'd said it. It hurt even more that it needed to be said. That Remus hadn't already known. James was a wonderful man and Sirius would have died for him. Would have killed for him too. But when it was quieter and life wasn't hanging in the balance, Sirius would have gone to Remus if he wanted to vent about a bad day or if he wanted to relax and laugh and have fun. He and James were so much alike, apart from James's greater command of logic and Sirius's weaker grip on his anger. They had the same sense of humor, same opinion on most things, same upbringing, same hair color. All of these shared traits made what they had together seem like it was more. Invincible. But with Remus, he was always reaching. It wasn't a given that they'd be friends forever and never fall. For whatever reason, Sirius had always needed that allure of chance. He was addicted to the challenge of reconciling who Remus was with what he became once the moon was full. He was addicted to the challenge of making Remus laugh or lose his guard. And Remus had more to give in return. He'd have died for him, whereas James had other things to live for. That did not make James a lesser friend, only Remus a greater one. As selfish as it felt, Sirius was glad that Remus needed him so much, even if he didn't need him in the way that Sirius still needed the werewolf, the tawny-haired boy who was so beautiful when tangled up in scarlet sheets. All Sirius wanted to do was to melt into the fairer man's skin, to cry into him and breathe into him all of the pain, lust, fear, strength, friendship and love that he felt just because Remus had allowed him to feel it. All Sirius wanted was to let Remus worry his lip instead of his own. All Sirius wanted was to sit across from Remus the rest of his life, drinking tea in the morning, laughing over Sunday papers, singing along to the radio, teasing over bad jokes, battling over who would make dinner and who would wash dishes. All Sirius wanted was all of Remus, but he knew that it wouldn't be _settling_ if he only had him as a friend. Because he understood now that even a fraction of the worst of Remus Lupin was a million times better than anything Sirius could hope to be alone. But if he was _with_ Remus, Sirius could capture the stars.

"More?" Remus asked, shocked into whispers, though everything inside him was screaming, half in elation, half in sheer terror.

"More. More than James. And more than a brother. More than one kind of love, even though I told you I could live with that," Sirius admitted, this time more ashamed by yet another broken promise than about any disservice he was doing to James.

"But you were always with James!" Remus exclaimed, not letting himself absorb the important part of Sirius's confession. He couldn't. He couldn't.

"No, you always went off by yourself and I got bored and, you have to agree with me here, James is a hell of a lot more interesting than Peter."

"You were his best man! You're Harry's godfather!"

"Is it my fault everyone loves me?" Sirius smiled. "Don't get me wrong, Remus. I loved James. He was one of my best friends and I'm honored that I was his. But in the unlikely event that I had to choose between the two of you, you'd have won."

"Why?" Remus wondered aloud, shushing the voice inside his head that was telling him it _had_ come down to a choice, and Sirius certainly hadn't chosen him.

"I'm not going to feed your ego after the stupid thing you did," Sirius answered sternly. "But since you've already played out the whole argument in your head before I even entered the room, I'll leave it alone, save for a warning that it better not happen again."

"Don't get telepathic on me," Remus mumbled.

"Now who's being immature?" Sirius laughed.

"I refuse to believe that my entire life since age eleven has been based on a misunderstanding!" Remus scowled, wanting nothing more than to be happy about the reassessment of his worth but needing to make sure that it wasn't a ploy for whatever it was Sirius wanted from him.

"Does this news make you happier or sadder?"

"Why would it make me sadder?"

"Because, before, I'd only doubted a good friend. Now you know I doubted my best friend and the man I love. Not to mention the fact that we both have to come to terms with the fact that we don't know each other half as well as we ought to."

"Sirius, I don't know exactly what to feel about all of this, but I do know that sadness is nonexistent in the equation," Remus answered. In truth, he thought that the whole thing oughtn't make a damn bit of difference. The two men were still the same as they had been when they woke up this morning. It was just that now the connection between them wasn't so linear. It wasn't a downward slope from Sirius to Remus, an uphill battle, a tedious and continuous process of reaching and climbing and struggling to find a foothold, only to slip back to where you started, or even lower. And it wasn't a case of lycanthropy balancing out impetuosity, because the field was suddenly clear of all ideas that these traits made the man, or could exist outside the man. But what did it all mean? They were grown now, less dependent on social connections, strong enough in their individuality to exist outside the pair. What did it matter that two friends now knew they were regarded as supreme in each other's eyes? What did it matter that James Potter's best friend liked someone else a bit more? What did it matter that Sirius Black had momentarily lost faith in his best friend? What did it matter that Remus Lupin had been proven wrong in thinking he was second choice? What did it matter that Peter Pettigrew was beneath consideration? And what did it matter that they'd become tangled in sheets and each other once again, changed by time and history? Nothing, really. Or everything. Or nothing.

"So you're not upset? Then I demand to know why you don't look ecstatic about having magical me for a boyfriend!"

"Now you really sound like Lockhart."

"Take it back."

"Don't think I will."

"I love you."

"Don't take it back."

"I never will, Remus. Never."


End file.
